


Of Wealth and Taste

by Wtchcool



Category: The Cape
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, creepy love triangle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-03-06
Packaged: 2017-10-30 23:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wtchcool/pseuds/Wtchcool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Turns out, Chess doesn't wear contacts, after all. He's a vampire. Eventual Peter/Vince. Contains one-sided Vinwell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Your Sad Reality

Disclaimer: Honestly, if I owned “The Cape,” you’d be enjoying Season Two now, rather than reading Pence fics. And I know no one believes that I came up with the idea of vampirism. I have, however, refined a version for this fic, but why don’t we let the fic speak for itself?  
  
  
Chapter One: Your Sad Reality  
  
  
    “What are you, twelve?”  
  
 _  
‘Try forty-three,_ ’ I wanted to snap back, but I couldn’t. For heaven’s sake, I’m older than him! But I shouldn’t take my anger out on him. It’s not Vince’s fault that I will never look my age.   
  
  
    We formed a partnership that night, but I keep a lot of secrets from my partner. He can never know who I am, what I am, or how I feel about him.  
  
  
    For the past five years, I’ve been “Orwell.” My real name is Jamie Fleming, but I haven’t used that name in years--not since I ran away from home twenty-six years ago. Yeah, Peter Fleming is my father. That secret alone is worth taking to the grave. In addition to destroying Vince’s life, he’s killed so many people; surely only a handful of his victims have been attributed to Chess.  
  
  
    But of course he has; he’s a vampire. As far as I can tell, he stopped aging when he was the same age I am now. I was three years old, so I don’t know what happened or who did it to him. He’s never told me and I’ve been afraid to ask because it was around the same time that my mother died.  
  
  
    Sometimes I wonder if he did it; other times I can’t believe I could even consider that. He loved my mother with all his heart. I remember that much, even though I don’t have many memories of her. For that matter, I can’t remember my father as a human. I always picture him as that pale heartless creature he’s become…  
  
  
    Needless to say, I didn’t live a normal childhood. Dad didn’t take well to being a single-parent/vampire. Maybe it was my mom’s death, but for whatever reason, he kept a close eye on me. And when I say a close eye, remember that I’m talking about a person who has highly advanced senses. I felt suffocated, but it hadn’t occurred to me that things could get any worse than they were.  
  
  
    What a fool I was. I should have known that he had no intention of spending an eternity without his daughter. I’ll say this much for him:  He let me go through my adolescence--barely. As soon as the last of my acne cleared up, he turned me into a vampire. I was seventeen years old, and seventeen I will remain.  
  
  
    Do you have any idea how hard it is to try to buy a beer when you’re forever frozen under the age of consent? Not that it stops me; a little compulsion ensures that the bouncer believes he’s already seen my ID. That’s not the point!  
  
  
    I don’t care what his motives were. Thanks to dear old Dad, I can never finish growing up. I can never have children of my own… I can never forgive him.  
  
  
    So I ran away and never looked back.  
  
  
    Alright, I can’t say he’s not on my mind. Most vampires blend in, but oh no, my father can’t be like the others. The mortals think that Chess is just a sick serial killer. They don’t know the truth.  
  
  
    Damn it, Dad! You didn’t have to be like this.   
  
  
    He has billions of dollars and unlimited time. If he had started searching for a cure for this condition years ago, maybe we’d have one by now. But he won’t. He thinks it’s a gift, as far as I can tell.   
  
  
    It’s not just that he won’t look for a cure. He’s a murderer. Not all vampires kill. I don’t; I’m perfectly content with the blood I take from the blood banks. Oh Vince, if you only knew that I became a hacker to electronically cover my tracks… Compulsion only works on humans, not computers, after all.  
  
  
    Poor Vince. I shouldn’t complain when my father destroyed his life so completely. He’s a good man. He was a good father and a good husband and yes, I admit it, I fell for my partner.  
  
  
    What does it matter? It would never work between us. He’s human and I’m not. His wife, Dana, is mortal. They belong together, raising their son, growing old… all the things my father denied to me.  
  
  
    I think Ruvi knows, though:  About everything. Everyone in the Coven of Crime has their own unique powers. Ruvi specializes in telepathy and I fear it works on vampires, too. He hasn’t called me out on it, at least. If I’m lucky, he won’t breathe a word to Vince. If I’m not, then…  
  
  
    I don’t want to have to use my powers on Vince, ever. But if I have to do it to restore his peace of mind, I will.


	2. Condition's Kinda Scary

Peter Fleming was resting in his coffin when his security system warned him there was an intruder in the penthouse. He briefly considered calling in the lethal potions specialist that Tarot, the elite warlock society, had sent him. Cain was already within ARK Tower; he could be in Fleming’s suite before the trespasser knew what hit him. But no, Peter thought, as he licked his lips in anticipation, it was better to handle this personally. After all, he hadn’t eaten yet this evening.  
  
  
~PF~  
  
  
    “Did you miss me, Peter?” the Cape asked as he attempted to strangle the billionaire. Little did the vigilante know that his effort was in vain.  
  
  
    The vampire only half-heartedly participated in the banter. It was rather hard to concentrate with the combination of the sound of the mortal’s heart and his scent distracting him. He did catch that the human was questioning his sanity.  
  
  
    “You know, people who live in glass houses--”  
  
  
    “Get thrown out windows,” Vince snarled.   
  
  
    Enough of this; the proximity of the human was driving Peter insane with thirst. He could feel his fangs extending and his eyes transforming as he used his preternatural strength to turn the hero to face him.  
  
  
    Vince’s eyes went wide as he looked into Fleming’s. He was positive that the villain’s pupils had been normal moments ago. The CEO hadn’t had time to grab a pair of contacts, but his eyes were now those of Chess: The pupils had contracted to slits and the blue irises paled to a different hue altogether. That shouldn’t be possible…  
  
  
    “You’re not human?” the Cape gasped.  
  
  
    “Brilliant deduction. What, you thought Chess wore contacts?” the billionaire smiled. “You thought I would let you get this close to me if I didn’t want you to?”  
  
  
    The next thing Vince knew, Chess’ fangs were piercing his neck.  
  
  
    Peter drank greedily. Oh yes, this was nirvana. He’d made a mistake in having Faraday’s body blown up; such a waste of perfectly good blood. The exhilaration of flight was nothing compared to the sensation of feeding. Maybe it was because he hadn’t hunted much recently, but this blood tasted particularly delectable.  
  
  
    He paused as he heard his victim’s pulse begin to slow. Damn it, he didn’t want to get carried away. He didn’t want to kill this one now. It was too soon. He didn’t even know the man’s name. He pulled himself away from that neck, wondering if the Cape would be conscious enough to be interrogated…  
  
  
    Bloody hell! No sooner had he released his hold on his prey than the vigilante staggered away from him and jumped out the window. Damn, damn, damn; he could hardly interrogate a smear on the sidewalk. He’d better go clean up the mess. He sighed as he leisurely flew himself down to the pavement.  
  
  
    To his surprise, his victim was not lying in pieces all over the ground. Instead, Peter was just in time to see the car the Cape had flung himself into speed off into the night. Stretching out his sense of hearing, he caught an infuriated cry.  
  
  
    “WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?!”  
  
  
    Peter blinked. That voice; it couldn’t be… Jamie?  
  
  
~VF~  
  
  
    “Vampire… Peter Fleming’s a vampire,” Vince gasped out. “Did you know that?”  
  
  
    His partner didn’t respond to him. Orwell’s chronically pale complexion went even paler; Vince hadn’t thought that was possible, but he was a little too woozy from loss of blood to question it.  
  
  
    “No…no hospitals,” Vince warned her, unnecessarily.   
  
  
    Jamie knew perfectly well she couldn’t take Vince to a hospital. There would be no way to explain the fang marks on his neck. She wanted her father exposed to the public as Chess, not as a vampire. The existence of their kind had to be kept secret.  
  
  
    Orwell fought back the guilt that was threatening her, both for not warning Vince what her father was, and not getting to him sooner. If she had flown to ARK Tower instead of using her car, maybe she would have gotten there in time. She sighed; it was too late now.  
  
  
    She brought her Porsche to a halt at the entrance to Trolley Park just as the sun rose. She frowned. She had really wanted to be indoors before sunrise. The sunlight might not make her burst into flames, but it was still anathema to her.  
  
  
    “I’m sorry, Vince,” she said, as she laid her partner gently on the ground. “I have to go.” She hurried back into her car and took off for home.  
  
  
~VF~  
  
  
    Vince woke up the next day at the Coven of Crime. He cautiously laid a hand over his neck. The wounds had closed up. His friends had healed him.  
  
  
    He still couldn’t believe the company he kept now. Max Malini was the head of a witches’ coven. In addition to being able to cast spells, each of his new friends had their own powers. Ruvi was into telepathy and mind control; Raia could commune with animals; Rollo had super strength and Max had the power of telekinesis. Quite an odd group, but they had taken their mortal friend in when no one else would. Not being a witch, Vince would never be able to develop his own powers, but they could share magical artifacts with him and he had taken a particular liking to Max’s cape.  
  
  
    Forget the spider silk material; the real special features came from the spells embedded in it. It was bulletproof; and, once pulled on, the hood would stay on his head unless he hung upside down. Most importantly, the cape had both slowed his descent and cushioned his fall from ARK Tower, hence why he was still alive.  
  
  
    Vince sat up and found Max watching him.  
  
  
    “Did you know Fleming was a vampire?” he asked his mentor. Max shook his head.  
  
  
    “I didn’t even realize there were vampires,” he admitted.  
  
  
    “There’s nothing about them in your grimoire?” Vince asked, referring to the handwritten book of spells Max had inherited and that he added to from time to time.  
  
  
    “Well, actually, there is,” the witch admitted, “but I always assumed that was written because the person hadn’t discovered the Alcohol Tolerance Spell.”   
  
  
    That spell was one of Max’s creations. He could get buzzed as much as he wanted without getting downright drunk, worrying about hangovers, his liver, or any other effects of alcohol poisoning. Given that Max always had a glass of wine handy, he used this spell more than he used his gift of telekinesis.  
  
  
    Max shrugged, before turning to his pupil with a stern expression on his face.  
  
  
    “Vince, I can’t let you go back out there. We didn’t train you to hunt vampires. You’re not ready to face Fleming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this chapter beta’d by IronAmerica. 
> 
> And now Vince knows that Peter is a vampire. (In keeping with this being an AU, Chess’ pupils do NOT look like chess pieces.) So, what do you think of this version of ‘Tarot’? Juicier? Not satisfying enough? Is Vince going to learn how to hunt vampires now, or does he find another way to convince Max he’s ready to save Portman?


	3. How to Shoot At Someone

How Orwell tracked Vince to his new hideout was a mystery to him. The vigilante had only just recently found and furnished it. It wasn’t that he was no longer welcome at Trolley Park; he was (unless you asked Ruvi, which he didn’t). It was more that Max seemed to be getting a bit overprotective of Vince now that he realized his protégé’s arch nemesis was a vampire. Faraday figured it would be best for all concerned if he had his own space.  
  
  
    Max had wanted to take the cape back, for crying out loud! Why, because it turned out that Fleming didn’t have a pulse? Big deal. Vince was a fast learner; he’d mastered the skill of using the cape in a short amount of time and he could damn well master vampire hunting, too.  
  
  
    So together, he and Max had taken a look at the section in the grimoire on the undead bloodsuckers and the witch had supplied him with a box of everything he could need in an encounter with Fleming. Now all he had to do was spend some time getting antidotes for Cain’s signature potions and learning how to dodge knives and he’d be ready to save the secretary of prisons.  
  
  
    Unfortunately, it’s a little hard to train when your nosy partner shows up unannounced and starts picking through your vampire hunting equipment. Vince sighed as Orwell picked up a crucifix and raised an eyebrow.   
  
  
    “What exactly do you think you’re going to accomplish with this, Vince?” Really? Max had told him to hunt vampires with a crucifix, holy water and, was that garlic? Oh come on! That wouldn’t do squat to her or her father. Where the hell did Malini get his information from? She didn’t even see any wooden stakes in here and it had to be common knowledge that the best way to kill a vampire was to drive a stake through his heart. (Well, okay, decapitation and fire worked pretty good, too.)  
  
  
    Oh good lord, it got worse. There was a packet of seeds in here. Did he really believe that vampires suffered from the same obsessive compulsive disorder as the Muppet from Sesame Street?  
  
  
    “I suppose you think you’re the expert on hunting vampires now?” Vince asked.  
  
  
    Jamie shut her mouth. She didn’t want to explain to Vince just how she was so knowledgeable about vampires. Fine; he could find out the hard way that his weapons were useless. Besides, did she really want Vince to know how to destroy her father?   
  
  
    He was a psychopath; he was a murderer; he was a threat to society. But he was still her father, still the man who had tucked her into bed when she was little and sent her to ballet lessons. And while he wanted the mysterious blogger Orwell out of his way, she knew he also had a team scouring the globe for his long-lost daughter because even after all these years, he still loved her.  
  
  
    Plus, there was a slim possibility that if he was staked, she would die. Her father had warned all the ARK employees he’d turned into vampires that when the sire dies, so do all those he has sired. Jamie was 99% sure that her father was lying through his teeth in order to protect his undead existence, but she didn’t really fancy the idea of putting that to the test…  
  
  
    Yes, all things considered, it was probably best that Vince didn’t go and stake her father or decapitate him or set him on fire…  
  
  
~PF~  
  
  
    “We’ve found her. She’s been traveling through Europe using different passports--”  
  
  
    “It’s not her,” Fleming told his investigator.  
  
  
    “Well, we can get clearer pictures.” Digital pictures, the employee meant. As vampires, their gifts came at a certain price. Sunlight was poison, they had to be invited in before entering a mortal’s home (unless they shared ownership of the property with the mortal), and they had no reflections--  
  
  
 _Pity that he would have to spend eternity without being able to look at his face in the mirror…  
_  
  
    And they could no longer be photographed with traditional film. Digital photography, on the other hand, was a modern miracle. It was what made Fleming’s press conferences possible and it was how his investigators intended to get pictures of his missing undead daughter.  
  
  
    “Or we could get fingerprints,” the employee continued.  
  
  
    “Don’t bother,” Peter replied. “She’s not in Europe. She’s somewhere in Palm City.”  
  
  
    “What? How do you know that?” He knew because he’d bloody heard her voice the other night. He should’ve followed her and tracked her down, but dawn had been approaching and he had (foolishly) decided not to give chase.  
  
  
    Peter rubbed his temples. Having floor to ceiling windows was an advantage at night, but during the day it seemed to be a colossal mistake. He dismissed the investigator and left his office for the comfort of his coffin.  
  
  
    His penthouse did have a bedroom with a king size, extremely comfortable bed, where he occasionally entertained mortals (perhaps one night the Cape would be one of them).  
  
  
    However, the bed wasn’t for him to sleep in. A door leading off the bedroom opened up into the windowless room where he kept his casket. It was not a toe-pincher or so-called “Dracula” coffin. He wasn’t that cliché…  
  
  
    Alright, it was black on the outside with a burgundy red lining, but at least the shape wasn’t cliché.  
  
  
    At the moment, he didn’t much give a damn what it looked like. He flung himself inside, vowing to either have curtains installed in his office or give up working during the day.  
  
  
~VF~  
  
  
    Vince was exceedingly frustrated. Oh, he had succeeded in saving Patrick Portman from the Tarot assassin, but when he had pulled out the crucifix in front of Fleming, nothing had happened.  
  
  
    Correction: Something had happened. Fleming had grinned and then started laughing in his face. Not having a backup plan, he disappeared from the kitchen in a puff of smoke, trying to maintain his dignity.   
  
  
    Max’s grimoire was apparently not the reliable source he had thought it was. He would need another way to go after Fleming. Maybe he couldn’t kill him, but there were other ways of attacking him and, more importantly, of clearing his name.  
  
  
    And he had a feeling the key to solving his problems was in the form of that half-demon freak known as Scales.  
  
  
~DR~  
  
  
    “Hey, Snakeface!”  
  
  
    Dominic Raoul growled. Who the bloody hell had… Oh, it was that tosser, what was his name, the Cloak? The Wrap? Whatever it was, he had to be mental to disturb him now, especially when he had Lydia over.  
  
  
    (Lydia was his girlfriend. She also happened to be a succubus, but half-demons couldn’t be picky.)  
  
  
    “What do you want?”  
  
  
    “Peter Fleming’s been playing you for a fool. Or should I say Chess has been playing you for a fool?”  
  
  
    That got Scales’ attention. Maybe he wouldn’t have to sic Lydia on the vigilante after all… No, wait, the idiot was making fun of him again.  
  
  
    “Lydia, would you be a love and…?”  
  
  
    “My pleasure.”  
  
  
~VF~  
  
  
    Oh, EW! Was Scales’ demonic girlfriend actually hitting on him? With Scales cheering her on? What the heck was wrong with those two?  
  
  
    Vince quickly told Scales about the masquerade party on the train and then got out of there so fast you would think he was a vampire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we move a little faster, finishing up “Tarot,” going through “Kozmo” and diving right into “Scales.” 
> 
> Credit to IA, my beta, for the idea of Scales’ girlfriend. Credit goes to “Moonlight” for the theory that vampires can be photographed with digital cameras. 
> 
> What did you think? Too much comic relief for a fic about vampires? Not enough Pence?


	4. In Your Eyes

“You’re the engineer,” the Cape argued. Fair point. If anyone was going to stop the runaway train, it would be Peter.   
  
  
    He allowed the Cape to hold him as he climbed underneath the train. The vigilante apparently still had much to learn about vampires. He didn’t, of course, actually need the Cape’s assistance. He was quite capable of defying the laws of gravity as he did his task but, Peter smirked, if the mortal was so intent to get his hands on him, who was he to refuse?  
  
  
    The human’s hood fell off as he strained himself to support the undead body, revealing a head of curly hair and successfully distracting Peter from his work. Why on earth did he look so damned familiar? Was he already acquainted with the hero’s alter ego? His need for answers was almost as tangible as his need for blood at this point.  
  
  
    “Who are you?” The Cape glared at him and refused to answer. So be it. Peter would have to use his powers to get the answers he sought, but first he had better save the hapless mortals aboard the train. Even if he hadn’t caused the mechanical failure, the deaths of dozens of people at the gala he had thrown would be terrible PR.  
  
  
    There; mission accomplished. Oh god, had he actually just _saved_ people? Pretending to be a hero was bad enough, but actually performing rescues was worse. Fleming comforted himself with the thought that one: the news of his heroics would be good for business and two: if the humans had died in a train crash, it would be a waste of a perfectly good food supply…  
  
  
    He blinked as the masked man hauled him back up and roughly pushed him against the side of the car. Peter certainly had quite an effect on the Cape, whoever he was. Perhaps the fool had forgotten just which of them was stronger. Mayhap a little reminder was in order.  
  
  
    Fleming, his pupils distorted into slits, wrapped his arms around his attacker and turned him around, trapping him against the side of the train. Their bodies were so close together that had anyone passed them between the cars, the onlooker would probably have assumed he was interrupting an intimate moment between two lovers.  
  
  
    Heightening the illusion, the Cape shifted against Peter, unconsciously proffering his neck to the vampire. Apparently the hero hadn’t forgotten the night at ARK Tower, after all. With his enhanced hearing, the villain could hear the other’s heart speed up in anticipation…  
  
  
    Against his will, his fangs extended. Oh, he was so tempted, but now wasn’t the time to feed. Not here, while they were on a train full of mortals and not while he was still wearing that ridiculous white cowboy suit. Blood would stand out all too clearly against the pale fabric and it was dreadfully hard to explain away.  
  
  
    He should just fly the two of them off the train, somewhere private, where he wouldn’t have to worry about explaining anything… No. He couldn’t. Then he would eventually have to explain how he had just vanished off of a moving train. He sighed. The important thing was that this time he wasn’t going to let the vigilante get away without satisfying his curiosity.  
  
  
    Peter’s eyes bored into the human’s as he willed the other to answer his questions.  
  
  
    “Who are you?”  
  
  
    “Vince Faraday.” The words were torn from Vince’s lips before he could stop them. Fleming stared at him. _That_ was why the Cape was so familiar. That face, sans mask, had stared at him from the front of all of his newspapers and from each of his television stations for weeks.  
  
  
    “But that’s not possible. Faraday died in an explosion.” He didn’t get a response. Oops. He forgot that he’d have to put his inquiries into the form of a question. Okay, the Cape was currently under his power, so he had told the truth and he was Faraday. So the question was:  
  
  
    “How did you survive?”  
  
  
    “Tunnel…underneath the freight train…shielded me from the blast.”  
  
  
    Fleming cursed himself. By framing Faraday he had created his archenemy. No wonder the Cape hated him so much and was hell-bent on proving he was Chess. He should’ve known it wasn’t driven by altruism; it was personal:  He merely wanted to restore his reputation so that he could go back to the way things were before.  
  
  
    Unfortunately for Faraday, his life would never go back to the way it was before. Fleming would personally see to that.  
  
  
    In the meantime, as much as he appreciated the opportunity to play goo-goo eyes with his enemy, he had another mystery to solve. And if his suspicion that his daughter was on the train was correct, he didn’t have a moment to lose.  
  
  
    Jamie had the same gift of super hearing that he had. By now she must have caught snippets of his interrogation and she could barge in on them at any moment…  
  
  
    But perhaps she wouldn’t. He _knew_ that had to have been her at the masquerade earlier, the one hurling accusations at him left and right. It was the same voice he had heard screaming at Faraday nights ago. But when he had started following her, she had disappeared into the crowd, unwilling to face him. And if she had really wanted to disappear, she was capable of doing it. The public might notice if the CEO of ARK Corporation was suddenly absent at his own party, but everyone would be none the wiser if his heir apparent quietly slipped out a window and flew off.  
  
  
    He pulled himself out of his thoughts and turned to Faraday, who was still under his control.  
  
  
    “How do you know my daughter?”  
  
  
    “I don’t,” the fugitive replied. The barest hint of confusion lingered in his voice, though the compulsion had drained most emotion out of it. Peter sighed. Terrific. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d thought.  
  
  
    “How do you know _Jamie_?” he rephrased.  
  
  
    “Who?”  
  
  
    “Oh for crying out loud!” Fleming resisted the urge to bang Faraday’s head into the wall. “Let’s try this again. The woman who picked you up after you threw yourself out my window… Do you know who she is?”  
  
  
    “Never…told me…her real name.”  
  
  
    “That’s Jamie alright. Where is she?”  
  
  
    “Looking for me, Daddy?” Peter looked up and saw his daughter crouching on top of the train.  
  
  
    “Hello, sweetheart!”  
  
  
    “Let him go, dad. You don’t want to hurt Vince.”  
  
  
    “ _Hurt_ him? Heavens, no! Faraday and I are merely having a little chat.”  
  
  
    “Do you always compel people when you talk to them?”  
  
  
    “Well, not always… Oh, no. No, no… Jamie, dear, you’ve already laid claim to him, haven’t you? Well, this is awkward.”  
  
  
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted.  
  
  
    “You always were terrible at lying to me, darling.”  
  
  
    “Just let him go!”  
  
  
    “Very well, but before I do…” Peter looked back into Faraday’s eyes. “You hate me, don’t you?”  
  
  
    “Yes.”  
  
  
    “You could never forgive me for what I’ve done to you?”  
  
  
    “Never.” Peter smirked.   
  
  
    “Wrong answer. You forgive me.”  
  
  
    “ _Dad! NO!_ ” Too late. The suggestion had already taken root firmly in Vince’s brain.  
  
  
    “I forgive you,” he murmured. Only then did Peter let go of the former police officer. As he broke eye contact, Faraday blinked, as though coming out of a trance.  
  
  
    “You can take him home now,” Peter addressed his daughter. “I’m sure we’ll meet again.”  
  
  
~VF~  
  
  
    “What happened back there?” Vince demanded. He and Orwell were back at his hideout.  
  
  
    “Vampires have a power over humans, similar to Ruvi’s mind-control power. Fleming was using it on you. He got you to tell him your name.”  
  
  
    “And he called you his daughter. Why? Is it true?”  
  
  
    “Yes.”  
  
  
    “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” Vince exploded.  
  
  
    “I’m sorry; I don’t like to brag about being Chess’ daughter. Would you have trusted me if you knew who I was? That’s what I thought.”  
  
  
    “Are you… are you also…?”  
  
  
    “A vampire?” Jamie swallowed. “Yes, Vince, I am. I didn’t have a choice! He forced me to turn.”  
  
  
    “So how old are you, really?”  
  
  
    “Seventeen going on forty-three.” Vince whistled. “Vince, I don’t know how much you remember from earlier, but Dad did something to you. He used his power to make you forgive him for…well, everything.”  
  
  
    “I thought my sudden lack of burning hatred was a bit unusual. Can you undo it?” Jamie shook her head slowly.  
  
  
    “I wish that I could. Dad’s older and stronger than me. I can’t override one of his orders. Too bad your brain isn’t a computer,” she smiled weakly.  
  
  
    “I really _am_ sorry, Vince.”  
  
  
    “Does it wear off at some point, then?”  
  
  
    “No, I mean, it would only wear off if…” she trailed off.  
  
  
    “If what?”  
  
  
    “If you were turned into a vampire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curse you NBC for taking a show with perfectly good potential and ruining it! I’m talking, of course, about “Heroes.” This chapter was named after the song “Eyes” by Rogue Wave, which some of you may remember from season one. If you don’t know the song, go listen to it! It’s awesome. 
> 
> Oh my. Was that a cliffhanger above?
> 
> Once again, thank you to IronAmerica for serving as beta.


	5. Bid My Blood To Run

Being turned into a vampire wasn’t an option. Well, technically it was. Orwell--Vince tried to remember to call her Jamie, but they were both more comfortable using the moniker--had the power to turn Vince into a vampire, but that didn’t seem like a good idea to either of them. Orwell _hated_ being a vampire and didn’t want that existence for her friend and partner and, frankly, Vince wasn’t going to argue with her. Not long after hooking up with the Coven of Crime, he’d accepted the fact that, unlike his friends, he wasn’t meant to have powers.   
  
  
    Having to die, rely on blood for subsistence, and avoid sunlight like the plague seemed a bit too steep a price to pay to regain his loathing for Peter Fleming. Maybe it was the effect of the compulsion, but he wasn’t 100% sure that he wanted it back anyway…  
  
  
~VF~  
  
  
    “Vince!”  
  
  
    “Geez! Orwell, you startled me! We’ve been through this: It’s impolite to sneak up on mortals. Some of us don’t have super hearing.”  
  
  
    “Sorry!” Orwell looked duly chastised, “but it’s important!”  
  
  
    “Of course it is; it always is,” Vince said, rolling his eyes. “What is it this time?”  
  
  
    “Someone’s trying to kill my father.”  
  
  
    “So?” Vince shrugged. “He’s a vampire. Shouldn’t you be worried about the unsuspecting human?”  
  
  
    “She’s not unsuspecting; she knows what he is. This human’s a vampire hunter and a psychic to boot. Vince, he needs your help.”  
  
  
    There just wasn’t anything simple when it came to the Flemings, Vince concluded as Orwell proceeded to tell him all about Dice. Given that the would-be assassin was a vampire hunter, it was too risky for Orwell to try to intervene, which meant it was up to the Cape to save the evil bloodsucker.   
  
  
    Maybe he should reconsider this whole superhero business…  
  
  
    “And she came this close to blowing him up,” Jamie finished.   
  
  
    “And here I thought you didn’t care about him,” Vince put in.  
  
  
    “I…I don’t; I just don’t want to have a vampire hunter roaming the city.”  
  
  
    “Orwell, it’s okay. It’s not a crime to care about your father’s well-being.”  
  
  
    “Even considering who my father is? Never mind; I keep forgetting he fried your brain.”  
  
  
    “‘Fried my brain’? Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?”  
  
  
    “Are you defending him now?”  
  
  
    “No, I just… Forget it; what do I have to do?”  
  
  
~VF~  
  
  
    Right on schedule the chandelier fell from the ceiling, all set to decapitate Peter Fleming and destroy the vampire once and for all.   
  
  
    And then the Cape rushed in at the last second and shielded Fleming from the impact, saving his neck. Vince got up and started to chase after Dice, but was stopped by a hand on his arm.  
  
  
    “Faraday, wait! You saved me. And I never forget a favor,” he murmured as he drew the vigilante against him in the deserted restaurant.   
  
  
    A voice in Vince’s brain told him to run; fight; do _something_ because Fleming couldn’t be trusted. Unfortunately, Vince’s body wasn’t taking directions from the voice.  
  
  
    “But in this case,” Peter continued, “I’m prepared to make an exception.” That said, his fangs extended and he plunged them into Faraday’s neck.  
  
  
    Oh, Peter could get used to this…   
  
  
    A moan escaped Faraday’s lips, causing Peter to pry himself from the hero’s neck. It wouldn’t do him any good to leave his protector weak, after all. Not when there was still a vampire hunter on the loose.  
  
  
    The Cape came out of his daze and hurried off.  
  
  
~VF~  
  
  
    “Peter, you need to evacuate the building,” Faraday warned him. The billionaire blinked.  
  
  
    “How the hell did you get in here?”  
  
  
    “I don’t have time to explain now. Dice has set a bomb in the building; actually she’s rigged the building to act as a bomb, whatever. The point is that this place is going to be full of flames in a couple of minutes, so I need to get you out of here.”  
  
  
    “But my production line will be destroyed! Couldn’t you just defuse the bomb?”  
  
  
    “Maybe I wasn’t clear: I don’t give a rat’s ass about your production line. I’m just here to make sure that no one gets hurt. Tell everyone to clear out now.”  
  
  
    Peter sighed loudly before picking up a fork and tapping it against a glass.  
  
  
    “May I have your attention, please? I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate the launch of TRAC-E. Now, there is no need for panic, but security has informed me that there has been a bomb threat, so I need everyone to evacuate the building in an orderly fashion.”  
  
  
    “And use the STAIRS, not the elevators!” the Cape shouted as the guests started running for the exits.  
  
  
    “So, now that the civilians are safe, can we talk about you saving my production line?”  
  
  
    “Nope. We can talk about you getting out of here alive, now.”  
  
  
    “Technically that’s undead,” he corrected Faraday. Another long-suffering sigh followed. If Vince didn’t know Peter had been an engineer, he would have sworn the man had majored in drama.  
  
  
    “Fine, I suppose a set-back of a few years isn’t much in the grand scheme of things to an immortal. Let’s go.”  
  
  
    “‘Let’s?’” Vince repeated. The next thing he knew, Fleming’s arms were wrapped around him and the billionaire was steering him out of the skyscraper’s window. Vince shut his eyes, panicked. Had he really narrowly avoided being a smear on the pavement earlier this evening only to plunge to his death now?  
  
  
    “You would enjoy the view a lot better if you would open your eyes, Faraday,” Fleming drawled. Hesitantly, Vince cracked open first one eye and then the other. They weren’t plunging to their deaths. Fleming was flying them to safety, actually freaking _flying_.  
  
  
    One of these days he would have to get a proper list of a vampire’s powers.  
  
  
    “I take it this is your first time flying,” the billionaire observed, his voice sounding amused as the hero clung to him. “You need not worry. I’m not going to drop you. It wouldn’t be right given your recent heroics.”  
  
  
~VF~  
  
  
    “Julia, may I speak with you for a moment?” Ruvi asked.  
  
  
    “What’s up, Ruvi?” Orwell asked.  
  
  
    “It occurs to me that this evening Vince risked his life to save your father--”   
  
  
    “Ruvi!” Orwell hadn’t told him that her father was Peter Fleming.  
  
  
    “Did you really think you could keep secrets from a telepath?” he scoffed. He knew, for instance, that Julia wasn’t her real name; had known for awhile now. “As I was saying, Vince didn’t give a damn about risking his neck. He seemed eager to, actually, when he came to me for help. So, naturally I would want to know what’s going on.”  
  
  
    “Ruvi…”  
  
  
    “So I took a little peek inside Vince’s head…”  
  
  
    “That’s invading his privacy!”  
  
  
    “That’s nothing compared to what’s been done to him, isn’t it? I only discovered that someone’s mucked around in there. What did you do to him?”  
  
  
    “Look, it wasn’t me, it was my father. He made Vince forgive him. I already told Vince that there’s nothing I can do about it. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing, after all. Vince seems happier now; it’s like a poison’s been drained from his system, you know?   
  
  
    “I don’t think all the pent-up hostility was doing him any good.”  
  
  
    Ruvi narrowed his eyes. Vince was happier? Maybe Julia couldn’t do anything about that, but he sure as hell could.  
  
  
    “Tell me precisely what Fleming did to him.”  
  
  
~VF~  
  
  
    The next day, Orwell entered Vince’s hideout, Ruvi in tow.  
  
  
    “Vince, remember when I told you we couldn’t find a way around what Fleming did to you?”  
  
  
    “What Fleming did to me? Oh! You mean him compelling me; sure, I remember, why?”  
  
  
    “Because we may have found a solution, sucker,” Ruvi replied.  
  
  
    “Why did you bring him here?” Vince groaned.  
  
  
    “Just listen to me, Vince. I can’t remove the compulsion, but--”  
  
  
    “But I can chip away at it,” Ruvi finished.  
  
  
    “What do you mean?”  
  
  
    “Okay, um, think of it this way. You know how in ‘Sleeping Beauty’ the fairy godmother couldn’t remove the evil fairy’s spell, but she could manipulate it so it wouldn’t do as much damage?” Vince stared at his partner blankly.  
  
  
    “Oddly enough, I didn’t read ‘Sleeping Beauty’ to my son at night.”  
  
  
    “Right. Well anyway, that’s sort of what we’re doing here,” Orwell explained.  
  
  
    “Chess told you that you had to forgive him, but he never specified for what. So far your pathetic brain has interpreted the instruction as meaning that you have to forgive him for _everything_ he’s ever done.  
  
  
    “I’m going to use my power to narrow it down so you’ll only have to forgive him for having compelled you that night. Everything else--his having framed you, threatening your family, and so on--you’ll be able to hate him for again. Sound good?”  
  
  
    “Y--” Ruvi put Vince in a trance before he could finish. The witch shrugged when Orwell frowned at him.   
  
  
    “What? I don’t really care if he approves or not,” he admitted before getting to work. A few minutes later, the telepath declared himself done and brought the Cape out of his trance.  
  
  
    “Did it work?” Jamie asked. “How do you feel, Vince?”   
  
  
    “I actually took my chances on a tightrope in order to save that bastard?”  
  
  
    “It worked,” Ruvi pronounced as he turned to go.  
  
  
    Vince frowned. Suddenly the memory of flying with Fleming last night didn’t seem so magical anymore…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have AU Dice. I was going to say that following this chapter, the story will no longer parallel the episodes, but someone seemed really excited about the prospect of zombies, so now I don’t know…
> 
> Credit goes to my wonderful beta, IronAmerica, for helping me formulate Ruvi’s solution to Vince’s problem, although I decided to explain it without going into technical lingo. 
> 
> Everyone happy Vince is no longer under Fleming’s spell? Disappointed Orwell didn’t turn him? Looking forward to zombies?


	6. Life Among the Dead

This was a nightmare; it had to be.   
  
  
    It had started when Rollo had discovered that a dear friend of his had been zombified. It was up to Vince to find out who was turning people into zombies and put a stop to it.   
  
  
    He hadn’t even realized that zombies existed. (Although he didn’t know why it had surprised him; after all, his archenemy and one of his best friends were vampires.) It was time for Max to give him the low-down on the walking corpses.   
  
  
    Vince fervently hoped that the grimoire’s information on zombies was more reliable than its data on vampires had proved to be.  
  
  
    “You’re looking for a bokor,” Max explained, having opened the book to the correct page.  
  
  
    “A what?”  
  
  
    “A bokor is a magician who specializes in creating zombies. Here’s how it works: The bokor drugs his victim with a potion called ‘le coup de poudre.’ The potion works as a depressant; brain activity drops to a minimum and the victim appears to be on the verge of death.  
  
  
    “That’s when the bokor performs a ceremony to remove the person’s soul and replace it with a loa--”  
  
  
    “A what?” Vince interrupted.  
  
  
    “A loa is a spirit. According to Voudoun, there are many loa, with different personalities and abilities, somewhat like gods. The bokor you’re looking for is a Voudoun practitioner.”  
  
  
    “Okay,” Vince said, though he wasn’t quite sure he understood what that meant. “So that’s how the guy is creating the zombies. How do you destroy zombies?”  
  
  
    “Well, if you can get a zombie to ingest salt, it will undo the bokor’s magic, the loa will depart, the person’s soul returns, and the deceased should return to her coffin.”  
  
  
    “That’s great, Max. I’m sure it’ll be easy to shove salt down the throats of an army of zombies,” Vince rolled his eyes. “Tell me there are other options.”  
  
  
    “Well, the other methods for disposing of zombies are rather similar to getting rid of vampires: You can either set them on fire or take their heads off.”  
  
  
    “And you couldn’t have just said that in the first place because…?”  
  
  
    “Vincent…” Vince knew that tone. It meant: “ _Why are you trying my patience when I haven’t had enough wine, yet?_ ”  
  
  
    “Fine, I’m going!”  
  
  
~VF~  
  
  
    Vince learned that the Lich was the bokor, but he still didn’t know who the hell the Lich was or where to find him. While he was investigating that, Jamie was busy searching for a way to keep her father from purchasing the docks from the city.  
  
  
    He learned too late that the Chandler heir she’d tracked down was the bokor.   
  
  
    The Lich had taken Orwell hostage and had taken it into his head to turn her into a zombie too. He doused her with the potion and it reacted the way it was supposed to--she’d gone into a sort of trance and was hardly aware of her surroundings, let alone capable of reacting to them. The problem came later, when Chandler tried to remove her soul.  
  
  
    It wouldn’t budge. The Haitian ritual he was using had not been designed to work on vampires. Magicians had no more power over the bloodsuckers’ souls than demons did.  
  
  
    Of course, the fact that his captive was a vampire was news to the Lich. He didn’t take it so well…  
  
  
~VF~  
  
  
    “Peter.”  
  
  
    Fleming raised an eyebrow. How had Faraday managed to bypass his security and get into his penthouse?  
  
  
    “To what do I owe the pleasure, Cape?” Peter wasn’t getting his hopes up. He’d already learned that the compulsion he’d placed on the vigilante had been, to all intents and purposes, removed.  
  
  
    “Fleming, I need your help.”  
  
  
    “Oh? And you think I would be predisposed to help you, after you let my production line go up in flames and--”  
  
  
    “It’s about Jamie. She’s been kidnapped.” Fleming’s pupils became distorted in what was becoming a familiar manner to Vince. The former cop didn’t see the vampire’s fangs extend, but he knew that they had.  
  
  
    “Where is she?!” Peter demanded.  
  
  
~VF~  
  
  
    Fleming had flown Vince to the Lich’s hideout, but quickly left the mortal behind after they arrived. A dozen corpses, animated by loa, slowly began making their way towards the hero. The evil magician must have murdered their hosts weeks ago. They smelled terrible. Their flesh was rotting all over their bodies and still they advanced, mindlessly, with the one goal of killing the intruder.  
  
  
    Luckily for Vince, he had by now plenty of practice using the cape to decapitate mannequins. Using it to decapitate zombies was no different, except that it was exceedingly gross.  
  
  
    While Vince did battle with Chandlers’ zombies, Peter went straight for the bokor himself and wasted no time in using his fangs to tear into the villain’s flesh. When the Cape finally found Conrad’s body, he winced at the sight. The corpse was heavily mutilated, but Fleming couldn’t have been feeding because there was no way he would’ve left that much blood behind…  
  
  
    While Vince was trying to hold onto the contents of his stomach, Peter found his little girl and scooped her up in his arms. She stirred.  
  
  
    “Daddy?”  
  
  
    “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here.”  
  
  
    The Cape walked in on the scene.  
  
  
    “Is she alright?”  
  
  
    “I don’t know,” Peter admitted. “She doesn’t seem like herself. I better get her home.” With that, he flew his daughter back to his penthouse, leaving the Cape behind.   
  
  
    Vince, worried about his friend, leaped across the rooftops until he made it back to ARK Tower. This time, Peter wasn’t surprised to see him. He shook his head.  
  
  
    “She hasn’t strung together a coherent sentence since I found her, Faraday. Won’t move; won’t drink any blood. I don’t know what the hell he did to her.”  
  
  
    “I think I have an idea,” Vince spoke up. “Do you have any salt?”  
  
  
    “Excuse me?”  
  
  
    “I mean, I know you’re a vampire and you don’t eat like humans do, but do you have…?”  
  
  
    Fleming sped out of the room in a blur and returned in less than two seconds, carrying a full salt shaker. Vince pursed his lips. He was not altogether convinced that that had been in the penthouse a few moments ago, not that it really mattered…  
  
  
    “Okay. You need to get her to swallow some of it. Maybe you should let me do that,” Vince suggested, worried that the concerned father would shove the whole salt shaker down her throat in his haste.  
  
  
    “Don’t be ridiculous, Cape. She’s my daughter; I’ll take care of her.” With that, Fleming knelt beside Jamie on the bed he’d lain her on, gently tilted her head up, parted her lips and sprinkled some salt in her mouth. She swallowed reflexively and then began to blink.  
  
  
    “Dad? Vince? What happened?”  
  
  
    “The Lich nearly turned you into a zombie,” Vince replied.  
  
  
    “That’s impossible, you can’t turn vampires into zombies,” she told him as she stood up.   
  
  
    “I guess he didn’t know that.”  
  
  
    “Jamie, should you be standing up so soon? You just went through quite an ordeal.”  
  
  
    “Dad, I’m fine! Honest, I just can’t remember… Wait, you saved me, you _both_ saved me? You actually worked together?”  
  
  
    “Well, it’s not like it’s the first time,” Vince said, remembering the Monte Carlo.   
  
  
    “We make a pretty good team,” Peter said, gazing into Faraday’s eyes.  
  
  
    “What about Chandler?” Orwell asked. “He was the Lich, what happened to him?”  
  
  
    “Did you say Chandler?” Peter asked.  
  
  
    “He’s dead, Jamie,” Vince told her. Orwell’s eyes widened.  
  
  
    “No, no, he can’t be dead! If he’s dead, this was all for nothing. The city will get the property and there’s nothing to keep them from selling…”  
  
  
    “To me,” Peter finished. “You mean to tell me that you put yourself in danger like that just to keep me from purchasing the land?” Jamie nodded.  
  
  
    “I’m sorry dad, but I don’t trust you. The docks shouldn’t fall into your hands. And now there’s nothing to stop that from happening.” A tear trickled down her face. All that torture for nothing!   
  
  
    “I have to go,” she whispered, before flying out the nearest window. Peter stared after her for awhile, before turning to face the hero.  
  
  
    “I killed him because of what he did to my little girl, you know.”  
  
  
    “But he wouldn’t have done anything to her if she wasn’t so afraid of what you would do with that property.   
  
  
    “Peter, you can’t go through with this deal! Not after what she’s been through. You’re not that heartless.” The billionaire gazed at Faraday’s face. (The fugitive had removed his mask upon arriving at the penthouse.)  
  
  
    “Is that right? You believe that, even after they undid the compulsion?”  
  
  
    “I believe that you love her. I saw proof of that tonight. Show me that I’m not wrong.”  
  
  
    “And if I agree to give up the docks, what would you give me in return?” Faraday’s face flushed and he began to stammer.  
  
  
    “What, what do mean?”   
  
  
    “Relax,” Peter shushed him as he closed the distance between them. As he had on the Monte Carlo, Vince offered his neck to the vampire and as before, Peter rejected the offer.  
  
  
    “If I start drinking your blood now, I won’t be able to stop myself.”  
  
  
    “Then what…?” While Vince’s mouth was still open, Fleming’s clashed with it, surprising the hero. They had never kissed before, and Vince had never considered the possibility… No, wait. He had visualized it the night Peter had taken him flying, had half-expected to be kissed that evening (if nothing else), though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone.  
  
  
    As much as he still had his reservations about the vampire, at the moment he’d be hard-pressed to deny that this felt more than good; it felt _right_.   
  
  
    They broke apart only when the mortal needed to catch his breath. By that time, he felt as though he had been the one put in a trance that evening and didn’t think to protest as he was led to Fleming’s bed.  
  
  
    Nor did he recall the billionaire’s warning when the villain eventually gave into temptation and drove his fangs into the hero’s neck, drinking deeply. Vince should’ve felt alarmed at the amount of blood he was losing, but he didn’t. If he had had words to describe the sensation of Fleming taking in his lifeblood, he would have called this feeling a strange sort of elation.  
  
  
    Peter, for his part, didn’t need to wonder what heaven would be like. This, surely, was it. He knew, as he drained Faraday’s body dry, that he had fallen hard for this man and that he couldn’t let him go— _ever._   
  
  
    Pushing his doubts about his actions to the darkest recesses of his mind (after all, it was too late to stop now), the vampire finished drinking and used his sharp teeth to tear open one of his wrists, before offering it to the nearly lifeless body before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy V-Day/anti- V-Day everyone!
> 
> To celebrate the occasion, the chapter has a healthy dose of zombies and Pence. Just so we’re all on the same page, yes, Peter turned Vince, and yes, that was after they, *coughs* well, you can use your imagination. Hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Credit on Max’s information on zombies goes to Monstrous dot com. (Incidentally, some of you may be more familiar with the way Hollywood has bastardized the Haitian religion of Voudoun as “voodoo.”)
> 
> Thanks to IronAmerica for beta-ing the chapter, and thank you to IA and Orwell for reviewing!


	7. Scared As Hell

Vince drank from Peter’s wrist, slowly at first, and then with a sense of urgency, until finally Peter had to pry the younger man off of him. For some reason, newly turned vampires always had to be stopped from draining their sire dry. Faraday moaned and Peter knew the sound would have turned him on if he wasn’t already so exhausted.  
  
  
    The transformation process complete, Vince drifted off to sleep in Fleming’s arms.  
  
  
~VF~  
  
  
    He slept until nearly noon and smiled as he felt Fleming’s arms around him.  
  
  
 _Flashback_  
  
  
    He still couldn’t believe that Peter Fleming was taking him flying. God, the city looked so beautiful from up here and so… peaceful. It was hard to reconcile this scenery with the crime-ridden metropolis that he was becoming accustomed to protecting. You would never know that a crazy vampire hunter had just set off an explosion in one of the high rises.  
  
  
    It seemed natural that Fleming’s arms were around him, keeping him from falling. Some voice inside him insisted that he shouldn’t be comfortable with this situation; he was being carried by the man that had taken everything from him, but the voice failed to stir up his anger.  
  
  
    That probably had to do with the compulsion he was under, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He looked up into Peter’s face, so close to his, and at the vampire’s lips, and wondered if the billionaire would just lean down and kiss him…  
  
  
    He was surprised when Peter set him down on a random sidewalk in the business district and let him go. He hadn’t thought about where they had been headed and realized he had expected to find himself at ARK Tower. Surely, he wasn’t disappointed that Peter wasn’t taking him back to the penthouse…  
  
  
    “I’d give you a lift home, Cape, but as I don’t know where you live, I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you here,” Peter murmured. Vince blinked and then nodded.  
  
  
    “You’re not going to follow me, are you?” he asked.  
  
  
    “Don’t worry, I won’t. I promise. You’ve saved my life twice now. The least I can do is give you some privacy,” Peter replied, before flying away.  
  
  
 _End Flashback_  
  
  
    The time spent flying with Peter had to be the reason he was dreaming of being in the bastard’s arms now. Okay, he didn’t particularly like the implications of dreaming of Fleming, but at least this dream was pleasant enough, one of the better ones he’d had lately, if he was honest with himself. As long as no one knew about this, he’d be fine. He frowned when he remembered that Ruvi was telepathic.  
  
  
    “Crap,” he muttered sleepily. “If Ruvi gives me grief over this, I’ll kill him. ‘S not like it’s any business of his what I dream ’bout, anyway.” He heard a chuckle answer him.  
  
  
    “I’m thrilled to hear that you’ve been dreaming about me, but I’m afraid you’re quite awake now,” Peter informed him as he carded a hand through the vigilante’s hair.  
  
  
    “Na-uh. Still dreaming. Would never have slept with you.”  
  
  
    “Hate to burst your bubble, dear, but you would and you _did_. Now, you need to drink blood, and unless you were serious about killing this Ruvi fellow--”  
  
  
    “Blood?” Vince’s eyes snapped open and he leapt up off the bed…and found himself hovering over it for a second before he crashed back onto it with a thud, narrowly avoiding falling on top of Peter.  
  
  
    “What the hell is going on? What did you do to me, Fleming?”  
  
  
    “You’ll have to be more specific. Are you referring to the part where I turned you into a vampire or the part where we made love?”  
  
  
    “ _Fuck!_ HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?”  
  
  
    “Again, you’re going to have to be more specific…”  
  
  
    “How could you do _any_ of it?”  
  
  
    “If you’ll recall, you were trying to persuade me to refrain from purchasing the docks from the city. I must admit, you were very persuasive. You can let Jamie know that I’m going to withdraw my offer to buy the property, unless of course she’d like me to buy it for her as a gift…”  
  
  
    “I don’t remember offering myself to you in exchange for that!” Vince located his clothes and hurriedly got dressed. “You compelled me again, didn’t you?” Fleming’s eyes flashed in anger.  
  
  
    “No, I didn’t. You spent the night with me of your own free will.”  
  
  
    “Then I made a mistake, but that doesn’t excuse you turning me into a vampire! Did it occur to you to ask me first about what I wanted?”  
  
  
    “So you wanted to grow old and die? Or perhaps die before growing old. Do you know what the mortality rate is for vigilantes? You’ve been risking your life night after night. Just last night you were nearly killed by an army of zombies. I did you a favor, Cape, you ungrateful arse!”  
  
  
    “I can’t deal with this now. I’m out of here.”  
  
  
    “The sun is up.” The drapes had been pulled closed to blot out the harmful rays. “You’d be better off staying here until twilight. You don’t understand what’s happened to your body, you haven’t had any human blood and I’m sure you don’t have a coffin at home--”  
  
  
    “Well, maybe you should’ve thought of that before turning me! There is no way in hell I’m spending the rest of the day with you.”  
  
  
    “But--”  
  
  
    “I’ll stick to the damn shadows! Why the hell do you care, anyway?”  
  
  
    “Because I…”  
  
  
    “It was a rhetorical question, Peter. Goodbye!”  
  
  
    And then he was gone, leaving Peter alone with the words on the tip of his tongue: _I love you._  
  
  
~VF~  
  
  
    Orwell came to the hideout after he gave her a call. Somehow, without him saying anything, she had known and she had brought him blood. She didn’t press him for details. He didn’t want to discuss them and she didn’t want to hear them.  
  
  
    Jamie held him as he cried, and she cried with him, even as she whispered something about getting a coffin for him and showing him the ropes. She understood what he was going through. Her father had taken her mortality from her, too.  
  
  
    She wouldn’t, couldn’t tell Vince that she was also hurting because she realized she was losing him to her father. He needed a friend now, a shoulder to cry on, not a jealous vampire.  
  
  
    In time, she assured him, he would forgive her father. And maybe, she thought to herself, there would be a time when she would forget what she had wanted with Vince. True, it could take awhile, but they had eternity.  
  
  
    “Look on the bright side,” she said, drying her eyes.  
  
  
    “There’s a bright side?” Vince asked.  
  
  
    “The two of you stopped the Lich last night. You saved the city from the bokor and his zombies. You saved _me_ , not just by getting me out of there, but also by giving me the cure to that potion. And you convinced my father not to buy the docks.  
  
  
    “You know, I think you might be a good influence on him.”  
  
  
~VF~  
  
  
    “Max, I…” Vince trailed off. He tried entering Max’s trailer, but couldn’t get through the door. What was going on?  
  
  
    “What, did you set up some kind of spell to keep me out of your trailer now?” Max frowned, put his glass of red wine down on his desk, and approached the door.  
  
  
    “No, I didn’t. Although, now that you mention it, I wonder why I didn’t do that before. Might’ve taught Vince The Never Knocks Before Entering a lesson.”  
  
  
    “Ha-ha, very funny. Seriously, drop the spell.”  
  
  
    “Vincent, get the wax out of your ears. I told you, I’m not using a spell.”  
  
  
    “Then why can’t I get in?”  
  
  
    “I suspect you were turned into a vampire. Let me guess: Fleming did this to you? Should’ve seen that coming.”  
  
  
    “Wait, so that means I can’t come inside?”  
  
  
    “Didn’t I teach you anything? Vampires can’t enter a mortal’s residence without being invited in.”  
  
  
    “Then invite me in!”  
  
  
    “And after a vampire has been invited inside once, he is free to come and go as he pleases.”  
  
  
    “How would that be any different from before?” Vince asked.  
  
  
    “Good point. Although,” Max went back to his desk and picked up his wine glass, “I rather like the thought of you not being able to barge in here any time you want.”  
  
  
    “Ma-ax!”  
  
  
    “Fine,” Max sighed. “I know I’m going to regret this. Come inside, Vincent.”  
  
  
    “Thanks, Max,” Vince said once he had entered the trailer.  
  
  
    “You’ll have to forgive me for not offering you a drink.”  
  
  
    “Actually, Julia brought me some blood bags earlier.” Max’s eyebrows rose.  
  
  
    “You didn’t come to tell me about your predicament first. I’m hurt.” Vince rolled his eyes.  
  
  
    “Julia was able to tell me what to expect. Yeah, she’s a vampire, too, okay?”  
  
  
    “But not the one who turned you?”  
  
  
    “I’m too sober to talk about that.”  
  
  
    “That’s supposed to be my line,” Max mused.  
  
  
    “Look, I don’t need more blood now, but I wouldn’t say no to a glass of wine.”  
  
  
    “Coming right up.”  
  
  
~VF~  
  
  
    The Cape stood on the rooftop across from the apartment building Dana and Trip Faraday lived in. The sun had set sometime while he was busy getting drunk with Max. For a minute, he was worried about running across the rooftops while buzzed, but then he remembered: He was immortal now. There were very few things that could kill him, and a fall off of a rooftop wasn’t one of them.  
  
  
    Curse Fleming.  
  
  
    He watched his wife and his son through the windows. If he extended his hearing, he’d be able to hear their voices, too. He’d need to practice that skill, along with the others, especially flying. He wouldn’t have to jump from rooftop to rooftop anymore; he’d be able to fly over the buildings… like he had with Peter.  
  
  
    His fists clenched. He hadn’t asked for this. Fleming had taken him away from his home, his family, his life. He’d held tight to the hope that he’d get them back someday, that the cape would help him get them back.  
  
  
    And now they were gone forever.   
  
  
    Never before had he felt so much like an outsider while spying on his family. He had always wanted to tell them that he was still alive…but now he wasn’t. He wasn’t human anymore; he was undead. He would never be able to fit in with them again, never be able to go home.  
  
  
    His eyes misted over. It wasn’t supposed to be this way! His place was by Dana’s side…not in Peter’s bed.  
  
  
    His stomach lurched. He clamped down on the memories from the previous evening; they were too painful. Yes, _painful_ , not arousing, he told himself.  
  
  
    He couldn’t believe he had had sex with that monster--willingly, no less, if the Brit’s word was to be believed.  
  
  
    “What got into me?” he murmured.  
  
  
    “I believe it’s called lust.” He knew that voice. Vince’s head turned around so quickly that his neck would’ve hurt something awful if he was still human. Sure enough, there was Peter Fleming, floating a couple of feet above the rooftop.  
  
  
    “I thought I’d find you here,” Peter continued.  
  
  
    “And you came to gloat?”  
  
  
    “No. I thought we might talk.”  
  
  
    “Talk?”  
  
  
    “Yes, something that’s often done after two people have shagged.”  
  
  
    “I don’t want to talk to you.”  
  
  
    “I gathered that when you fled the penthouse this afternoon.”  
  
  
    “I didn’t _flee!”_ Peter raised an eyebrow. “Okay, I left in a hurry, but that wasn’t fleeing.”  
  
  
    “If you insist.” No point in arguing over semantics. “I really didn’t come here to argue with you. I came to apologize.”  
  
  
    “An apology isn’t going to give me my life back.”  
  
  
    “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. My behavior was inexcusable.”  
  
  
    “That what you told Jamie after you turned her?”  
  
  
    “I’d been planning that for some time. You’re a father too. Someday, you’ll understand. There’ll come a point where your son will be an adult and you’ll realize that you face the prospect of seeing him die, of spending an eternity without your child.”  
  
  
    Vince frowned. He’d never force Trip into being a vampire…  
  
  
    “When the time comes, you’ll see. Forever is a long time to spend without those you love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Train’s song, “Drive By.”
> 
> Thank you to Dragomir for beta-ing the chapter! 
> 
> Some more one-sided Vinwell here, although it apparently goes hand-in-hand with torturing Jamie. :( 
> 
> So, there enough angst for everyone? Too much torturing the characters? You know the drill.
> 
> Also, thought I should give you a heads up that this fic is almost over (probably). Can’t say for sure, since I don’t plan these things in advance, but perhaps we’re looking at another chapter or an epilogue. *shrugs* Am open to suggestions that do not run contrary to Pence.


	8. Epilogue: Plan On Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Extreme sweetness ahead; proceed with caution.

_Thirty-five Years Later:_  
  
  
    Why was it, Peter wondered, that he was walking down the aisle and Vince was standing at the altar, and yet they weren’t the ones getting married? Oh, that’s right. He was there to give his daughter away and Vince was there as the best man.  
  
  
    Not that he was jealous of Jamie. He didn’t need a piece of paper to prove that Vince belonged to him. It was enough, he told himself, that they bickered like an old married couple and shagged like newlyweds.  
  
  
    Vince had been dead set against the idea of sharing a home with Peter in the beginning, but the billionaire was persistent. He’d also been appalled when he’d laid eyes on the cave that his beloved had called home. There was no way his lover was going to carry on as a peasant when they could easily share the penthouse.  
  
  
    Well, perhaps easily was a bit of an exaggeration. Nevertheless, within months of having turned Vince into a vampire, he was somehow able to convince the vigilante to move his coffin next to his. It probably hadn’t hurt that he’d repeatedly been able to charm Faraday into his bed. (Some members of the Coven of Crime, particularly Ruvi, had initially given Vince grief over his new arrangement. Vince quickly put a stop to this by demonstrating why it was not a good idea to annoy a vampire.)  
  
  
    And yet, every few years Vince would leave the penthouse in an attempt to assert his independence from Peter. The estrangement never lasted long. Peter never wasted any time in tracking down his partner, and Faraday never strayed far from Palm City anyway. It was still his city to protect, after all. Certainly, Scales and Lydia’s semi-demonic brats kept the Cape busy.  
  
  
    Peter should have realized that by turning Faraday into a vampire, he’d simultaneously made the Cape immortal. Now entering his seventies, Vince showed no sign of wanting to hang up the mantle. He supposed that’s what happened when a superhero showed no signs of aging. What was really irksome was that Faraday acted the part of a stereotypical perpetually brooding vampire, unable to ever quite accept what he had become. At his wit’s end, Peter had eventually caved in and allowed his mate to spend funds on research into a “cure” for vampirism.  
  
  
    If Fleming actually thought there was a way to reverse the condition, he’d probably never have done so. But he was confident there wasn’t and the gesture had pleased Vince, so it was a win-win situation.  
  
  
    Now, Peter glanced at his daughter. He had to admit that Jamie looked stunning in her white gown, with her hair done up like that. She looked ecstatic and the reason for her good mood was clear and standing next to Vince: Douglas Faraday, the groom, a newly-minted vampire who happened to be Vince’s older grandson.  
  
  
    Peter was infinitely relieved that Jamie had at some point gotten over whatever crush she’d once felt for Vince. He knew she still cared deeply about him, but it was more the fondness a sister might have for a brother.  
  
  
    Jamie and Douglas had fallen madly in love, much to the disapproval of Douglas’ younger brother, Robert Terrence Faraday. It wasn’t that Robert didn’t like Jamie as a person; it was more that he frowned upon his brother’s choice to become a vampire. The eighteen-year-old had been Doug’s first choice for best man, but he’d declined and was now frowning from his position in the audience next to their father, Trip. He’d come around, eventually, or so Doug hoped.  
  
  
    Come to think of it, his father and grandfather hadn’t reacted much better to the news that Jamie had sired him. But as it was presented to them as a fait accompli, they had accepted that there wasn’t a great deal they could do about it.  
  
  
    It was a small wedding ceremony in Ochun, Palm City’s sister city. As the bride and groom were both vampires, they’d considered eloping but the family had very firmly opposed that idea. As it was, only a few relatives were present. The wedding couldn’t be more different from the lavish affair that had been Trip’s wedding more than two decades ago.  
  
  
    Peter had accompanied Vince to that wedding, too, though he had tried so hard to talk the man out of going. Nothing would keep Vince Faraday from his son’s wedding, not even the presence of Dana Faraday. Dana Kirchner, rather, Peter corrected himself. Trip’s mother had gotten remarried. The billionaire hoped that would make Vince let go of any imbecilic notion of still being married to his ex, but he never knew for certain.  
  
  
    Vince had told his son everything years before Trip was even engaged. He simply couldn’t bear staying away from the boy for long. (How Vince would cope when Trip would pass away, Peter didn’t know, but he suspected he was going to have to be the one to pull him through the grief.) Predictably, Trip went ballistic when he found that his father had lied to him, and that he was to continue to lie to his mother, but he eventually managed to forgive him.  
  
  
    Dana was not to know anything about her first husband’s undead status. When Vince went to Trip’s wedding, it was under the pretense of being a second cousin of the groom. If anyone looked like they were in danger of recognizing him, a little compulsion took care of that.  
  
  
    These days, of course, there was no longer any danger of Vince being recognized as Chess’ supposed alter ego. Not only had his face been out of the media for decades, but everyone would assume that, were the man still alive, he would look his age, rather than not a day over thirty-five.  
  
  
    Speaking of being out of the public eye, Peter had given up holding his press conferences long ago. It wouldn’t do for the masses to catch on to the fact that the ARK CEO simply wasn’t aging. He dreaded the day when he would have to change his identity to avoid suspicions and was already planning for his future alias to receive control of his company. (If Vince wasn’t going to retire, why should he?)  
  
  
~ _And another Five Years Later~  
  
  
_     Vince sat next to Peter during Robert’s wedding to Samantha. Rob had, indeed, patched things up with his brother and asked Doug to be his best man. Sam seemed like a lovely girl. For now, she was blissfully unaware that she had in-laws that weren’t mortal. Hopefully she wouldn’t take the news too badly…  
  
  
~VF~  
  
  
    The possibility of saying no when Peter asked him to dance at the reception never occurred to Vince. They moved smoothly together on the dance floor, their bodies pressed close together. Peter whispered something in Vince’s ear, and the younger vampire shook his head in exasperation.  
  
  
    Vince could admit to himself now that he had grown fond of Peter, but he still didn’t understand why Fleming insisted every year on celebrating the anniversary of the first time they’d shagged. And the billionaire’s plans for this year’s celebration were just absurd.  
  
  
    “Peter, I know you love me and I know you own your own private island, but vampires and beaches do not mix!”  
  
  
THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last line was derived from a chat with Dragomir that I believe lead to the formulation of the plot bunny for this story.
> 
> Thank you to Dragomir for beta-ing! 
> 
> So, what did you think? Too sweet? Just right? Disappointed that the story is over? 
> 
> Fear not, for there will be other stories. D is working on an OWAT ‘verse chapter for “April Fish.” I, of course, still have to finish HP & TCK, as well as LFTC. And as plot bunnies do so like to attack, you might keep an eye out for a Cape/Dresden Files (TV) crossover, to be called “Another Quixotic Crusade.”

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Thanks to Dragomir for beta-ing the chapter.
> 
> Here’s where I’d point out this is only one-sided Vinwell, but I’ve learned that there’s just no explaining this to determined shippers.
> 
> So, questions? Comments? Let me know.
> 
> Title of the story from the song “Sympathy for the Devil.”


End file.
